


All My Feelings on Fire

by stiction



Series: Summer Heat 2020 [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fisting, Trans Female Character, check the clock. it's projection time.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiction/pseuds/stiction
Summary: Hot Rod's not gonna pass up an opportunity like this--even if she does wish it was the other way around.
Relationships: Arcee/Hot Rod (Transformers)
Series: Summer Heat 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803259
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	All My Feelings on Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [so clear and so near](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382464) by [stiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiction/pseuds/stiction). 



> written for the square 'fisting' with hot rod & arcee

“Take your time. You’re doing a good job.”

Easier said than done, Hot Rod thought. Every time she squirmed against the berth a little surge of charge fed into her circuits despite the twinge of pain. There was probably transfluid all over her blanket. She’d just gotten it too, last time she’d had a free day in an intact city. Springer would definitely make fun of her if he caught her scrubbing at the stains later. She should’ve put a meshcloth under herself too, and not just Arcee. 

Her train of thought went off the rails there. She ducked her helm and pressed her face into the bend of Arcee’s knee. 

“Sitrep?”

“All clear,” Hot Rod said, shooting Arcee a thumbs up with her free hand. She held her frame very still for another moment before she was able to lift her helm again. Primus. All the internal damage and intentional processing in the world wouldn’t save her now. 

And Arcee didn’t even look flustered. Of course. Her fans blew at a slow, even tick, and aside from the warmth of her chassis, they could’ve been sitting around playing fullstasis. If it had been Hot Rod laying back getting opened up, she would’ve been a mess already.

It was totally unfair. Hot Rod was gonna do something about it.

“Another?” she asked. Arcee nodded, and she slid a third finger into Arcee’s valve, staring at the mesh stretching to fit around her. “Primus, you look so good.” 

Arcee dropped a hand to her helm and tugged at the edge of her crest. When Hot Rod finally looked away from her valve, Arcee was smiling. “You should see yourself,” she said.

“Me? I’m not even _doing_ anything.” 

“No?” Arcee drew her thumb up to the point and tugged again. 

Hot Rod shivered, resting the side of her face on Arcee’s leg. “So rude.” She was rubbing off on the berth again, she realized, but the tense of Arcee’s valve around her fingers was more important. She went back to working her hand, determined not to slack off. 

“Hush, kid. Keep going.”

“I am,” Hot Rod mumbled. She turned her hand so she could ghost her thumb over Arcee’s node every time she thrust her fingers deeper. It worked, a little bit at least: Arcee let out a long vent and sank deeper into the berth. 

The slow massage of Hot Rod’s helm had her fuzzing out. Maybe this was what people meant when they talked about meditation, she thought. Every time she pulled back, the calipers in Arcee’s valve were a little slower to slide closed. Hot Rod rubbed her cheek over Arcee’s thigh and spread her fingers a bit, just to glimpse the smooth shadowed interior mesh. 

“-hear me?”

“Hm?” Hot Rod hummed. The hand on her crest disappeared and took the static in her peripheral sensors with it. Arcee’s hand reappeared a moment later, dangling the bottle of lubricant in front of Hot Rod’s optics. “Oh. Okay.” 

She took the bottle with her free hand and popped the cap with her teeth. Now that her head was a little clearer, she could feel that the hand in Arcee’s valve wasn’t gliding as smoothly as before. It was like that most of the time. Hot Rod tended to oil up fast, dripping at the drop of a hat. Arcee… didn't. Hot Rod had learned not to take it personally. And to stash lube in her subspace. Just in case. 

The lubricant was cool in the pocket of her palm, warming quickly when she tipped it forward to cover her fingers as they slid back into the heat of Arcee’s valve. 

“Good,” Arcee sighed. “Keep going.”

“Roger that.”

Four fingers was a tight fit. Arcee’s thumb dipped between Hot Rod’s helm and the thin metal crest and made her squirm. She worked her hand in a little at a time, pixels merging and blurring until Hot Rod cycled her optics and saw her knuckles pressed to the rim of Arcee’s valve. 

“Whoa,” she breathed. 

“Last one,” Arcee said. “Like I showed you.” 

Hot Rod fumbled with her free hand for one of Arcee’s, squeezing as she turned her hand and edged her thumb up under her fingers. The first time she had topped had made her a little crazy. Sitting there between Arcee’s legs, finding her valve dry and at odds with the heat in the rest of her frame. 

“We can, uh, do something else,” Hot Rod had said, only to be met with a fond glare. 

“It’s not like you to give up so easily,” Arcee had said, reaching into her subspace and bringing out a now-familiar bottle. Then Arcee had taken Hot Rod’s slick fingers in her own and guided them down to open her up. The calipers in her valve had gripped tight and then relaxed, each one slow work. Hot Rod had been a panting mess by the time she finally bottomed out, staring down at Arcee’s amused little smile, her sigh of: “See?”

Hot Rod’s fist was, admittedly, much bigger around than her spike, but the principle remained the same. Energon thundered through the thin tubing in her helm as Arcee’s frame shifted and stretched that tiny bit more. Just enough that Hot Rod’s knuckles could slip in, the rest of her hand following easily. Her fingers folded to fit, exactly how Arcee had said they would. 

“Primus,” Hot Rod murmured. 

“See?” Arcee’s vents were long and hot, her frame burning under Hot Rod’s face. “It’s not that hard.” 

Hot Rod managed to look away from the place that her wrist disappeared into the rim of Arcee’s valve. Arcee smiled when she saw her looking, with a purposeful little clench of calipers. It felt… kinda weird. Sure, she’d had her fingers in at least a dozen valves at this point, but now there was hot mesh surrounding her entire hand, lubricant feeding charge into the joints of her knuckles and tingling in her wrist. Her spike was sensitive, but her spike didn’t have 20 points of articulation and an entire network of sensors attached to each of those points. 

It was the visual that was really about to fry Hot Rod’s motherboard in its mount. Her hand twitched, and Arcee let out a soft grunt as the plating on her abdomen tensed. Hot Rod rocked her fist and bit down hard on her own lip when the metal of Arcee’s chassis shifted in tandem. She did it again, just to make sure her optics weren’t playing tricks.

“I can see my hand moving,” she said dumbly. 

Arcee’s strained laugh nearly knocked her dead. “Huh. Wasn’t sure if you’d be able to with all my armor.”

“You, ah, you normally can?”

“Sometimes,” Arcee said. Her vocalizer skipped on an in-vent. “Depends on the sizing.”

“Oh,” Hot Rod mumbled. Calipers bore down on the hinge of her thumb as she turned her hand, processor racing around the thought of Arcee filling her up so much that she could see her own chassis pop out. Primus. It would probably push on her internals, rearrange them to make room for everything Arcee wanted to give her. 

Hot Rod’s thighs flexed together, suddenly slicker. The dig of her spike into the blankets only made the pulse of her empty valve worse. She wanted Arcee to push her over and open her up, stretch her out until they were locked together again, a little space made inside her for all five of Arcee’s knuckles and the heft of her palm. The bulge would be even bigger on her frame, she thought, burying a groan in the crook of Arcee’s knee. 

“You’ll get a chance when you’re healed up,” Arcee told her. She grunted, her valve clenching down again, calipers slipping on the bend of Hot Rod’s wrist. 

“I better,” Hot Rod laughed. “Primus. I want this in me.” She squeezed Arcee’s free hand.

“Then don’t jump on grenades. Martyrs don’t get fisted.” 

“Hah!” 

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'bad liar' by selena gomez 
> 
> there's more i wanted to put in this, alas, there are only two hours until september is done and i'm not giving up on a fic a month for 2020. maybe... there will be a chapter two... and a proper rewrite...


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